


Something More Involved Than Lame-Ass Handjobs

by martialartist816



Series: Lame-Ass Handjobs [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dating, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Yuri's potty mouth, i envy otabek's patience, otabek doesn't mind, yuri is a thirsty ass mofo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martialartist816/pseuds/martialartist816
Summary: Otabek is too damn perfect. Plain and simple. It frustrates Yuri to no end, but he loves him all the same.





	

“Thank you. Have a great day!”

The cashier flashed a friendly smile as she handed Otabek and Yuri their cups of spiced cider. They had stumbled upon an open-air German festival, every storefront and employee decorated to look authentically Deutsch. Their cashier’s dirndl was cut a little too low for the cold weather outside, and a braided bun kept her blonde hair tied back.

“The people here are way too nice,” Yuri grumbled, warming his fingers with the heat of his drink. “Is that JJ asshole really Canadian?”

Otabek stepped away from the counter and blew steam away from the top of his cup.

“Maybe he was born in France,” he offered, steering Yuri through the crowd and to an open bench.

Yuri sat close enough to Otabek that their shoulders pressed together. He sipped at the cider and instantly regretted it because _fuck_ that burnt his tongue. Coming out wasn’t his idea. He would’ve been perfectly happy burying himself sixteen weeks deep in Instagram, lounging under plush and warm hotel blankets, but Otabek offered to buy him food.

Neither of them had been to Vancouver before, and Otabek wanted to sightsee. Yuri found himself willingly dragged along because he hadn’t seen his friend in a few months. They competed in the first cup of the season in different countries, and the Cup of Canada brought them back together, competitors once again. Sightseeing wasn’t so bad. Yuri concluded as much after snapping some pics and uploading them with his trademark minimalist and edgy #hashtags.

As Yuri refreshed his feed for the fourth time, Otabek leaned closer to speak over the dull hum of the crowd.

“Is there anything else you want to see?”

Yuri almost didn’t hear the question because he focused so intensely on the warmth of Otabek’s breath against his cheek. He wanted to lean closer and leech off that heat, bring blood back into his fingers and the tip of his nose. Instead, he briefly met his friend’s gaze before looking back out into the street.

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one who wanted to walk around in this damn cold.” He raised the drink to his lips and took a real taste this time, the earthy flavor of it warming him from the inside out.

“If you’re that cold, we can just go back to the hotel,” Otabek replied with all the patience in the world. It frustrated Yuri just as much as it made him like Otabek even more.

“Hell no. You wanted to sightsee, so you can bet your ass we’re gonna see some sights.”

Yuri stood, still staring down the street. There would be a tourist map in one of those stores, right?

A short chuckle sounded from behind him as Otabek got to his feet, and they walked next to each other in silence. After precisely two seconds, Yuri’s hand disappeared down Otabek’s coat pocket.

“My hand is literally a block of ice right now.” Yuri refused to acknowledge the blush blooming on his cheeks.

Otabek said nothing, thank god. He just smiled and reached his hand into the same coat pocket, fingers wrapping around Yuri’s and staying there.

* * *

 

Touring lasted only until the sun went down. By then, the temperature dropped more. It was only early November, but _damn_ Canada dipped below zero so fast.

Yuri pushed Otabek into the first restaurant they saw and got a quiet booth in the corner. Yuri trapped his fingers between his thighs until they could feel again, browsing the menu.

“Have you ever had poutine?” Otabek squinted his eyes at the appetizers section.

“No. You?”

When he felt warm enough, Yuri unraveled his scarf and unbuttoned his dark grey coat, relaxing now that he didn’t have to constantly shiver.

“Once, but I was in America. So I’m not sure if I’ve had the authentic thing yet.”

“Then you should get some from here. It’s on me.”

Otabek looked up from the menu and met Yuri’s eyes. Yuri swore his heart did a happy leap because Otabek’s gaze had so much tenderness and softness that he thought he might die.

“You don’t have to do that, Yuri.”

Literally everyone says that when you offer to pay, but Yuri believed it when only Otabek said so.

“Maybe not, but I’m going to.” Yuri rested his chin in his palm, elbow propped up on the table, lazy smile on his lips. “You bought me cider.”

“That doesn’t really count–”

“Can you just shut up and let me take you on a nice date?” Yuri interrupted, and Otabek’s eyes softened even more when he smiled. God, Yuri would do anything to hold onto that smile forever.

When the waiter came by, Otabek ordered a glass of wine for himself, they settled on appetizers, and Yuri stuck with water.

“Wasn’t I the one to invite you out today?” Otabek prodded with a teasing edge to his voice.

“Sightseeing was your idea. Dinner was mine. Fair?”

Otabek let out a quiet, genuine laugh. “Whatever you want, Yuratchka.”

Yuri nearly choked on the water he was in the middle of drinking, and his heart made the most cliché _ba-dump_ sound. He set the glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Do you always drink the night before a competition?”

Otabek didn’t seem to mind the sudden question. “It’s just wine, and one glass at that. Would you like some?”

“Legal drinking age here is nineteen. I’ll have to wait until next year to take you up on that offer.”

Not that Yuri every really cared for alcohol. He’d seen the things it could do to skaters, and he promised himself he would _never_ go down that road. Certain Japanese and Swiss skaters be damned.

* * *

 

After dinner, Yuri sent a quick text to Yakov.

_You won’t see me until tomorrow morning._

If he has checked his phone at all after that, he would’ve seen the reply.

_You’d better not be making bad decisions. You have a competition tomorrow!_

But his phone remained in his coat pocket, Otabek demanding all of his attention for the rest of the night. Not that Yuri resisted giving it all up to him.

They wound up in Otabek’s hotel room. Yuri eyed the single bed as he draped his jacket over the back of a chair. He felt nervous and excited at the same time, which was dumb. If this was anything like that one time Otabek had visited Russia for Yuri’s eighteenth birthday earlier that year, nothing too exciting was going to happen.

“Do you have any pre-competition rituals you go through?” Otabek asked, making casual conversation. He toed his shoes off and left them by the door.

“I gorge myself with social media, but that’s not unique to the night before a competition.” Yuri walked up to the bed. The only places to sit were there, a small couch next to the window, or the chair where their coats stayed. Yuri planted his ass on the mattress and made himself at home. “So no, I guess not. You?”

“I like a hot bath.” Otabek sat on the edge of the bed near Yuri’s knees, head angled to look at him. “I guess you could say I pamper myself to get ready.”

Yuri raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head. “Ever been to a hot springs resort? Katsuki’s family owns one, you know. It’s not a bad place, actually.” Yuri wanted to say ‘we should go sometime’ but thought better of it.

“That does sound lovely.” Otabek held his hand out, and Yuri automatically reacted by reaching right back for him. He laced their fingers together, Otabek’s eyes on their hands. While it looked like a smooth move, Yuri had the most frustrating battle with own body that resulted in him losing and a blush spreading over his face. Really, they’ve held hands like, a million times. He should’ve been used to it by then, but he wasn’t.

“I’d offer to let you join me tonight,” Otabek started, thumb brushing over Yuri’s skin, “but the tub is way too small for both of us to fit.”

Yuri’s chest tightened almost painfully because _yes, yes, I want that_. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing first at their hands, then up into Otabek’s eyes.

“I could sit in your lap,” he said slowly, making it obvious that he wanted to. After so much time of Otabek being 'respectful,’ keeping his hands to himself just because Yuri was still underage, they might’ve finally been getting somewhere. Yuri was eighteen, after all. Nothing was stopping them anymore.

“I appreciate the offer.” Otabek smiled. Damn him and damn his absurd level of patience. He lifted Yuri’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “But it would be too awkward of a fit to be romantic.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. _Who’s talking about romance? I want to touch your dick_.

“I’ll be here when you get out,” he muttered, knowing Otabek wouldn’t relent no matter how much convincing (begging) Yuri did. They were the same that way. Incredibly stubborn. Once Otabek made up his mind, there was no changing it.

Otabek got up from the bed and left a kiss on Yuri’s lips. He backed away before Yuri had the chance to kiss back, but he did try to chase him. Otabek grinned at him from the bathroom doorway before disappearing into it, leaving Yuri propped up on his elbows and more sexually frustrated than he’d been in his whole life, scout’s honor.

He listened to the sound of the tub filling with water, pictured Otabek removing his many layers of winter clothes. Even his imagined self was a tease, slowly stripping down to nothing and giving Yuri a wink as he stepped into the water.

Yuri covered his head with a pillow and groaned loudly into it. Otabek probably heard; he’d left the bathroom door open, that bastard. Yuri’s face felt so heated he thought his skin might just melt off. To distract himself, he blindly groped around the bedside table for the TV remote, turning it on and watching whatever channel it was turned to.

Otabek didn’t take as long as Yuri would consider a de-stressing 'ritual.’ He stepped out of the bathroom, displaying all of his wonderfulness and hiding only a small portion of it under a fluffy white towel. Water droplets still clung to his hair, making it stick to his forehead.

Yuri lay on the bed, head held up with a pillow. He’d pulled the collar of his sweatshirt over his nose out of habit, so he was all eyes staring widely at the greek god standing in front of him.

Like, Yuri had developed a decent amount of muscle once puberty hit, but he was still thousands of leagues behind Otabek. To think, someone so sexy could actually exist, _and_  someone so sexy had a stellar personality, _and_ someone so sexy actually wanted Yuri the same way Yuri wanted him.

Otabek stood in front of the bathroom door and let Yuri stare all he wanted. Eventually, he took a few long strides to the bedside. Yuri reached out, tracing his fingers over the 'V’ in Otabek’s hips.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Otabek stuck his thumb out toward the television. Yuri hummed.

“Not really,” he answered honestly.

His fingers drew an upwards path from Otabek’s waist to his abdomen, where they stopped and splayed apart. His palm flattened against the muscles, and the skin felt warm and slightly damp from the bath.

Otabek took Yuri’s wandering hand into his own.

“Let me get dressed, then we can find something to do.”

“Seriously, don’t put any clothes on.”

Yuri sat up and dangled his legs over the side of the bed, knees spreading for Otabek to stand between. He looked up at his face, slowly taking his hand back to continue its exploration of new and uncharted territory.

Otabek returned his gaze, expression calm and understanding, and let Yuri do as he pleased. He wet his lips with his tongue before looking straight ahead at the sculpted chest in front of his face. A blank canvas, and Yuri couldn’t wait to paint it red and blue with his teeth, as lame as that metaphor was.

He closed the distance and peppered kisses along Otabek’s pectorals. His arms wrapped around his middle, nails lightly scratching along the smooth skin on Otabek’s back. He heard a soft sigh and figured he was off to a good start.

He wasn’t that experienced in the field of intimacy, but _whose fault is that Mr. 'I Need to Protect Your Innocence’?_

Yuri’s eyes slipped shut, and he raised himself up just enough to kiss across Otabek’s prominent collarbones. Parting his lips, he chose a random spot and sucked on the skin there, hoping the hickey that formed would last a long time.

When he pulled back, he could feel his lips swelling. _How does that look, you big dumb saint? Tempting you at all?_

Otabek tipped his head down to meet Yuri’s eyes, and Yuri quite liked the way his pupils had expanded. He looked hungry. Good.

A large hand cupped his cheek, and Yuri pushed into the caress.

“Can we please do something?” The only reason he said the 'P’ word was because Otabek knew he didn’t use it often. So when he did, it meant he really wanted it. “And by something, I mean something more involved than lame-ass handjobs.”

“My handjobs aren’t lame,” Otabek defended, thumb distractedly swiping over Yuri’s cheek.

“You know what I mean.” Yuri brought his hands back to Otabek’s front, fingers tapping around the waistline of the towel. “I’m eighteen now. You can’t use my age as an excuse to say no anymore.”

Otabek’s other hand came up, and he held Yuri’s face as he leaned down. “I like to take things slowly. Is that so bad?”

Yuri looked into his eyes because he couldn’t look anywhere else. In truth, he was touched that Otabek wanted to take his time, let things happen as they happen. But all this waiting was giving him blue balls, and he was ready for another level in their relationship, whatever _that_ was.

“I didn’t say it was bad. I said I want to get off with you. We started this…” Yuri waved his hand around in a vague gesture, meaning their relationship, “ _this_ , what, three years ago? I don’t get how you can wait so long.”

Otabek smiled in such a way that Yuri anticipated getting diabetes from whatever overly-sweet thing he was about to say.

“You’re worth the wait, Yuratchka.”

“You know I can’t stand it when you say impossibly romantic things like that.” Yuri tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest, but it felt like his heart was about to do a fucking quad lutz out of his ribcage.

Otabek weaved his fingers into Yuri’s hair and angled his head for a kiss. It must’ve been awkward with the way he was bent over, but Yuri desperately kissed back with everything he had. His hands settled on Otabek’s hips, on top of the towel, fingers digging into the soft material.

Otabek broke the kiss with a light peck and stood straight. His fingers stroked Yuri’s hair, combing it.

“I love how long your hair has gotten,” he murmured.

“Are we really talking about my hair right now?” Yuri actually pouted.

“What do you want to talk about?” Otabek apparently thought the pout was cute, and he stroked his thumb over Yuri’s bottom lip.

“I wanna talk French around your dick.”

To demonstrate, in case Otabek couldn’t get it through his beautiful thick skull, Yuri parted his lips and sucked that thumb into his mouth. He wrapped his tongue around it, lewdly spreading his saliva all around. Otabek’s reaction was freaking priceless because he let out this delicious grumble in the back of his throat. It sounded almost like a growl, and Yuri decided that he loved that.

When Otabek slowly pulled his thumb out of Yuri’s mouth, Yuri sat there with his damp lips slightly parted, eyelids halfway lowered.

“What’ll it be?” Yuri asked, voice coming out with a nice gruff to it.

“You have permission to do whatever you want,” Otabek answered like Yuri _always_  had permission, and that tone would’ve pissed him off if he hadn’t been so excited from the meaning behind his words.

Licking his lips again, Yuri reached for the place Otabek tucked the towel in on itself. He tugged it loose, and it easily fluttered to the floor. He glanced at Otabek because that was almost _too_  easy.

Otabek said nothing, though, so Yuri indulged himself with the sight of his cock. Much to his delight and very much to his pride, it was half hard. Unable to wait a second longer, Yuri touched it with his fingers. First, he brushed along the curved shaft, then wrapped the whole thing in his fist and slid his hand up and down.

Otabek let out another one of those super sexy growl sounds, and his length pulsed to full hardness in Yuri’s hand. It felt heavy and hot against his skin. No stranger to dicks, Yuri knew what it would feel like if he tickled the spot right under the ridge. When he did, he felt fingers roughly bury themselves into his hair.

He looked up, catching a glimpse of the most magnificent expression on his friend’s face. Mouth hanging open, head tipped back, Otabek could totally make Yuri come just like that. Hiding a smirk, Yuri lowered his mouth to the head of his erection and allowed it to slide past his parted lips.

He wasn’t worried about the taste, and it wasn’t that bad anyway. Otabek tasted like skin and maybe faintly of soap. Yuri slowly dipped forward until his entire mouth filled up, and his spit slicked up the length and made it easy to move around. The taste changed when Otabek leaked precome. It was tangy in an unpleasant way, but not too much for Yuri to handle.

As he developed a gradual rhythm of bobbing his head, the fingers in his hair tugged. Above him, Otabek panted lightly and whispered things like “yes” and “so good.” The words did nothing for Yuri, but the breathy voice that formed them drove him absolutely wild. He wanted to moan because Otabek was just too sexy.

He pulled the length almost all the way out of his mouth, leaving just the tip in. He sucked on that, cheeks hollowing out, tongue swirling over the slit. More precome landed on his tastebuds, and he swallowed it all.

“Yuratchka…”

And that voice, that tone somehow told him everything he needed to hear. Otabek was close.

Yuri slipped the erection back into his mouth and quickly bobbed his head back and forth. Soon after, maybe too soon, Otabek’s muscles tensed, and Yuri felt a sticky liquid fill his mouth. He didn’t let himself dwell on the taste as it slid down his throat. When he pulled off for good, Otabek hunched his shoulders and caught his breath.

His grey eyes opened, pupils still dilated.

“Thank you, Yuri…”

“What the fuck are you thanking me–”

Yuri’s back hit the mattress before his sentence finished. He felt more than saw Otabek’s body coming to rest above his own, hands gripping his wrists and pinning them next to his head.

He desperately kissed at the mouth that descended onto his own, moaning. _Shit, when did I get so hard?_

Otabek could probably taste himself in Yuri’s mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind, which turned the poor Russian skater on even more. Otabek broke the kiss and released Yuri’s arms in favor of mouthing along his neck. Yuri angled his head and reveled in the feeling, but those lips didn’t stay in the same place for long enough.

Otabek kissed past Yuri’s collar, hands hiking up his sweatshirt to expose his chest where he kissed some more. A wet tongue circled around his nipple, and Yuri let out a cry. He arched off the bed, feeling a hand press down hard over the bulge in his skinny jeans. He was too fucking sensitive for his own good, but that was only because he’d neglected himself in favor of sucking his friend off.

“Yuratchka…” Otabek’s voice resonsated from somewhere around his stomach. “I want to do the same for you.”

“Knock yourself out,” Yuri huffed, staring out of focus at the hotel room ceiling. No matter what Otabek did, Yuri would end up coming after three seconds anyway.

Otabek’s fingers undid his jeans and tugged them, along with his underwear, down just far enough to let his painfully hard erection free. To his own credit, Yuri lasted more than three seconds with Otabek’s hot and waiting mouth around his cock, but the thirty-seven seconds it actually took wasn’t something to brag about.

He just couldn’t help it. Otabek’s mouth was way too skilled around his shaft. His head bobbed, his tongue worked magic, and the hands on his hips did more teasing than they did holding him down. Yuri could thrust up into that mouth, and he happily did. Otabek took it all without so much as a cough, and Yuri released everything he had down his throat with a long moan of his name.

When it was all over, the greatest moment in his gay life, the aftermath of his first blowjob, Yuri cuddled against Otabek’s chest. That damn tease decided to put clothes back on after all, but Yuri could see two bright sides to Otabek’s clothing:

  1. it was much warmer this way and
  2. Otabek had given him some comfortable sweats to sleep in, so Yuri was now drowning in oversided pajamas that smelled like Otabek and made him feel all cozy.



Otabek wrapped his arm around Yuri’s shoulders, and Yuri got as close as possible even if it was annoying. Their legs tangled together, and it was the most comfortable sleeping position ever. Yuri would demand Otabek in his bed every night from that moment on just for the cuddles.

“One of these days, I’ll get you to fuck me,” he said through a yawn, no conviction to his words.

“Maybe one of these days, but not the night before a competition.” Otabek buried his nose in Yuri’s hair, and when he spoke, his voice pleasantly reverberated in his skull. “You would be too sore to skate, and that would compromise your score. As your boyfriend, I can’t do that to you.”

“B-Boyfriend?”

“Is it wrong for me to assume that? I’m sorry–”

“Shut up. I love it. Hell yeah, you’re my boyfriend.”

**Author's Note:**

> yuri got first place the next day. otabek got second. yuri is convinced he did that on purpose, but otabek makes it up to him the night of the free skate ;)


End file.
